Each War Is Worth Fighting
by Therm
Summary: A collection of fanfictions written from prompts I've received or other short scenes I've written.
1. The Letter

_Inspired by __**allied-hero**__'s headcanon about Frank getting Trapper sent home while Hawkeye was on R&amp;R._

* * *

It had been in his possession for a while.

He'd found it after Trapper's drunk leaving celebration in the Swamp, when Frank had gone back to get more of his things moved into his new tent.  
McIntyre was sprawled across his cot, a nurse laying there with him and on Pierce's bunk was a piece of paper, all screwed up with some messy scrawl on it.

He'd read it. Trapper's leaving note to Hawkeye. About how important Pierce had been to him while he was there and how he wasn't sure how he'd be able to live with himself being safe back at home while his friends remained behind. He told Pierce that he didn't think he'd write, but Hawkeye was welcome to write any time and he'd try and write back.

It made Frank feel envious that there was no drunken note left on his bed. He looked anyway. Even checked the floor beside the bed in case it had fallen off. Nope. Nothing.

So he kept Pierce's letter. Knew it was wrong.  
He felt a little guilty the next day when Trapper was woken late by Radar and told he needed to leave to make his flight.  
Trapper panicked packing his last few things and Frank saw the genuine sadness that washed over Trapper when he looked at Pierce's bunk and that there was no note there. The nurse he was with shrugged, couldn't remember a note either and Trapper assumed it was a dream.  
And now there was no time. He passed his goodbye to Radar in the form of a kiss on the cheek and then he was gone.

He kept the note in his pocket, folded away so no one could find it.  
There were moments where he felt he should give it up. After Colonel Potter arrived and he was back in the Swamp Pierce would talk to BJ about how he missed Trapper. Hunnicutt often tried to lighten to the mood but it was clear that Pierce was in a rut.  
Henry's death and Trapper leaving so soon afterwards had knocked him.

Frank knew that the letter, even being delivered a few weeks after Trapper had gone home would probably help lift some of Pierce's sorrow.  
So he planned to hand the letter over later that day. Wait until Hunnicutt was in post op, but as fate had it, they ran into one another before that. In the mess tent, Pierce came over to him, bloody scrubs still on and chewed him out for being a lousy incompetent doctor and for almost killing a patient with his lack of care.  
And it wasn't the first time he'd pulled a stunt like that but this time, the mess tent was full and Frank heard a murmur of agreement from some of the others in the room.  
As quick as he was there, Pierce had left and he was there, shamed by Pierce again. And the letter burned in his pocket.

He finished his meal as though Pierce's words didn't bother him but they cut right through. Pierce seemed to forget that he was as human as the men he defended. Everyone else came before Frank Burns though. When he finished, he went back to the Swamp. No one was around. Presumably Pierce was in post op checking over all of Frank's patients and he'd seen BJ still in the mess tent.

He pulled out the goodbye note. He'd felt bad about holding onto the note up until then. Not any more.

He threw the note in the stove and lit it.  
And he chuckled to himself as it burnt.


	2. Whisky

_Requested by major-charlie who wanted a story featuring Charles and Hawkeye, including the word buddy/buddies and to be happy. :) Hope you like it, lovely. :)_

* * *

Peace and quiet.

It was the main thing Charles noticed whenever Pierce was absent from the room or tent, or in this case, camp.  
Battalion Aid was under heavy fire, as it seemed to be a lot recently, and Hawkeye's turn had come to go up front.

Of course, it always sent Hunnicutt into a mess of nerves whenever his tent mate was absent, but he'd offered to help Margaret with some supplies to keep himself busy.

And then the peace and quiet ended as a Jeep pulled up in camp and Charles spotted the wayward surgeon climb out and head over to office. Charles expected him to go and find Hunnicutt but was surprised when he saw Pierce heading towards the Swamp.

Hawkeye lumbered in, dropping his helmet on top of his footlocker and unceremoniously dropped himself across his cot.

"Not going to find your buddy, Pierce?"

"Later," he said, curtly.

Winchester looked across to his bunkmate, the flat tone in his voice. He sounded tired. Deeply. "Bad up there?"

"Worse I've seen it," Hawkeye replied in the same tone, all the while, his eyes remained closed.

Charles wondered briefly how many times Pierce had been up to Battalion Aid since he'd been here but he kept the thought to himself. If his bunk mate was in a funk, he hardly needed to be reminded about how rough he'd had it. Of course they could all have it worse. Being assigned to Battalion Aid would be much, much worse.

Charles looked back over to his bunkmate, who was staring blankly to the top of their tent. They'd all been there. Exhausted but unable to sleep.

Turning to the desk he sat at, Charles pulled out another glass and poured two drinks. "Pierce, I wonder if you would," he said indicating to the glass in his hand as he moved over towards Hawkeye's bunk, sitting on Hunnicutt's empty cot. "My father sent this bottle and while it's supposed to be a rather sought after year, I'm not really sure it's as good as they say. Would you…"

Hawkeye sat up, tiredly, his body a little stiff but taking the offered glass. He took a sniff, a habit that drove Hunnicutt crazy if the number of times he mentioned it was any indication but strangely didn't bother Charles so much. "I'm not sure my taste buds will appreciate this, Charles. They've been ravaged by the taste of war," Hawkeye said, eyeing the still. But he sipped and the taste of the drink was better than he'd anticipated. "Tastes divine to me," Hawkeye mused.

"Really?" Charles said, taking another mouthful of his own and looking surprised by the taste. "Maybe it is my taste that has been ravaged here." He held the bottle out, refiling Hawkeye's glass.

In truth, the whisky was as good as Hawkeye said it was. But he knew if he approached the other man with a drink and he thought it was offered in sympathy or pity, or whatever else, he would reject it. Charles found the man a bit of a puzzle like that.  
He also knew that the mood of this place could drag you down from time to time and as much as he might be at odds with Pierce now and again, he also knew that it was his responsibility as much as the next man's to help another when he was in need of it.

As much as he hated to admit it, when Pierce was quiet and withdrawn the camp suffered for it.  
His loud, obnoxious behaviour was almost part of the camp, as much as Margaret's shrill orders, Potter's mare or Hunnicutt's pranks.  
It helped make this camp what it was. Not perfect, but they were damn close to it.  
And if a bottle of whisky helped get that obnoxious jerk back on his feet, then it was a cost that Charles could easily endure.


	3. Scratching the Itch

_Requested by __**disregardtherest**__ who wanted a Margaret &amp; Charles story with it being happy (but don't trust my version of happy too much), romantic and fluffy set in winter/xmas. I hope you like it. :) Excuse any incorrect facts regarding the timing._

* * *

It was Charles' second Christmas in Korea.

The day had passed by uneventfully. They'd eaten together in the mess tent and then cleared the tables to one side so that they had some more room. There was drinking, gifts were exchanged and a few drunken dances took place.

As it got later, there wasn't many people left. Margaret was having an animated and apparently hilarious conversation with Father Mulcahy who had been entertaining everyone with the piano but had given that up as the number dwindled. Hawkeye, BJ and Colonel Potter were over by the Christmas tree, Potter still in the Santa outfit he had put on earlier to hand out gifts.

"Hey… Santa you missed one," Hawkeye said reaching down underneath the poor excuse for a tree they had and plucking up the gift.

"Who's it for?" BJ asked.

Hawkeye looked for a moment, held it further away and squinted again. "I don't know that name could be anyone's" he declared, holding it out for someone else.

BJ tried and failed before calling over Father Mulcahy who was just bidding goodnight to Margaret. "Ah, it says this is for you, Major." he said, handing neatly wrapped present to Charles.

He eyed Pierce and Hunnicutt suspiciously but their level of drunkeness along with their curiosity made him believe that the gift at least wouldn't be one of their pranks.

He opened it to see a wooden object, obviously handmade by one of the Korean craftsmen that came to camp. It was shaped a lot like a fork, but a bit longer and carved on the handle were the words 'Nose scratcher'. There was a piece of paper inside twisted around the handle which Charles unrolled and read the words 'For next time you have an itch you can't scratch in O.R.'. Father Mulcahy read the words aloud, for the benefit of the others who were vaguely interested in what Charles had but didn't seem sober enough to read it themselves.

Once the words were read allowed there was a slight pause and Charles waited for it. The brains of the drunken doctors he shared his tent with worked slowly to piece together the words and the meaning before Pierce's laughter erupted, breaking the silence and the others joined in.

"Margaret!" Charles muttered leaving the others and their laughter behind as he went out to find the women, nose scratcher in hand.

She opened the door before he got there, a wry smile on her lips. "Yes, Major?" she said, casting him an innocent look.

"Don't you 'yes, Major' me! What is the meaning of this? I did not scratch my nose and you know it!" He said, anger creeping into him, made worse by Margaret's coolness.

"Charles, the nose scratcher can be used for more than one 'itch'. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Uh… I…"

"Major, it's cold outside and you're letting out all the heat. Shall we continue this discussion inside?"

It was his second Christmas in Korea. But it was one of the best nights of his life.


	4. Gin or Pillow?

Requested by daleks-and-other-stuff. Wanted Trapper &amp; Hawkeye but a bit of hurt/comfort or sadness. :)

* * *

"Here," Trapper said handing a drink to Hawkeye.

Hawkeye accepted it and downed it without a word. Trapper took the empty glass from the loose grip and refilled.

Hawkeye's first patient on the table died. He was in bad shape when he came in but nothing that a lot of care couldn't take care of. But it seemed the body, or maybe the spirit, was weak because he never made it. He'd tried but his best for that kid hadn't been enough.

When the next kid bought in wasn't in much better shape, Henry switched the game plan, having himself and Pierce work together on the worst cases, keeping McIntyre and Burns for the other patients.  
No one else died, but it was a rough shift. And after they got out, Hawkeye threw up all over Korea.

Trapper opted to head to the Swamp for drinks, thinking Hawkeye would join him, but he said he had something else to do and evaded Trapper for a while.

When he came back he looked just as sick and miserable as he had earlier.

After downing the second glass, Hawkeye handed the glass back and laid on his bunk, let out a deep sigh.

"Extra rough today, huh?" Trapper said. It wasn't an especially insightful thing to say, he just wanted a dialogue to start between them.

"Did you get a day like this? When the scale of it all just hits you?"

"I didn't let myself think about it." Trapper advised.

"Don't think about it? They're dying in front of me, their blood on my hands and you want me not to think about it?"

Hawkeye had gone from calm to angry in seconds. No conversation heading down this path was going to go well. "You asked. That's what I did."

Hawkeye waved his hand in Trapper's direction, as though to dismiss further conversation about it. They sat in silence for a bit, Hawkeye had raised his arm over his eyes blocking out the light, the world, as he lay there while Trapper studied his drink, carefully.

"One day, about two weeks in. Hadn't been a bad day but there was this little kid, one of the orphans who got hurt when her sister stepped on a landmine and I took the shrapnel out of her arm and leg. You remember that?"

"No," Hawkeye replied.

"I do. Because she was on my table. In front of me." He let the silence remain as he tried to decide whether he should press on. He'd never told anyone what he was about to tell Hawkeye. "There was a moment when I was wiping away some of the blood from her and I suddenly realised it wasn't her blood." Trapper took a gulp of gin. "You were in post op, Frank was with Margaret and when I got back here, I lay on that cot and cried into my pillow until there was nothing left."

Hawkeye didn't move, but Trapper knew he was listening, probably caught up in his own grief. He couldn't bring himself to move the arm covering his eyes.

"After that... after feeling that bad, I decided I had to try as much as I could not to feel it. I couldn't work if I were crying into my patients, you know? Sometimes it's harder than others. The thing is Hawk, when you look at it all, try and take it all in, it's so overwhelming. Just take it one day at a time, one patient at a time. And move on."

Trapper poured another drink for them both. "Here'" he said, knocking Hawkeye's arm with his hand as he passed over a drink. Hawkeye finally moved, taking the drink but not looking at Trapper."This place, this war, it'll drive you crazy if you let it. So just be smart. And if it gets that bad, I'll lend you my pillow."

Hawkeye looked across then. Could see that Trapper was still haunted by that child. The same way he was certain to be haunted by that soldier. "Thanks Trap," he said as took a sip of the drink. "If all else fails, we've always got the gin."

"Now that it worth a toast."


	5. Trapper John, meet BJ Hunnicutt

Not a prompt, but a spark of a story I wanted to write. I might like to do something more with this idea one day. For now, enjoy.

* * *

The reunion had been nothing short of incredible.

It had taken some work, but eventually, through Radar, Klinger and BJ's tireless work, they'd found a date to suit everyone and get them all together for a weekend.

Peg had left with Erin half an hour ago after their daughter had fallen to sleep. He'd been chatting with some of the nurses before catching up with the Potters. He'd heard some glorious tales from the pair of them and when they'd left him to go and talk to Margaret, BJ's sides ached with the laughter.

The table seemed suddenly too quiet and he turned to see who else was sharing it with him, ready to start a fresh conversation.

Everyone had been issued with name tags to help those who might not of met before. When BJ didn't recognise the face of the man opposite him, his eyes dropped to the name badge. 'Trapper' was all it said. Trapper John McIntyre.

He felt his defences rise a little as he saw him and as though Trapper knew there was some kind of threat, he looked around himself before laying eyes on the other man. BJ watched as he read BJ's name tag. He drew a blank and their eyes met.

"Trapper," he said reaching across the table to shake the other man's hand.

"I know you." BJ replied, shaking his hands and smiling back, in a slightly tight and uneasy way.

"You're the guy who replaced me?" Trapped said.

"Yep."

"That's…. interesting." BJ offered another smile as they released one another's hands and fell into silence. "So, you're married?" Trapper asked.

"Very happily. And faithfully." He hadn't meant for that to come out. "You?"

"Was. Have two great kids from it though. I get to see them still."

"That's…" BJ struggled for the right word. "Nice." That wasn't the right word.

Silence fell again.

"I haven't spoke to Hawkeye yet, he here?" Trapper asked eventually.

"Oh, yeah somewhere. He's been a little elusive tonight."

"Weird. I've seen Father Mulcahy six times and not Hawkeye as all. It's almost like he's avoiding me."

"Oh, why would he do that?" BJ said.

Trapper knew then. Knew that BJ knew why Hawkeye was avoiding him. Knew probably every dirty rotten thing he'd ever done.


	6. Migraine

_**Prompt**__:_ _Hawkeye has a vicious migraine and is forced to work when more wounded arrive as they are short staffed ~Anon_

**A/N:** So, I've never suffered with migraines myself but have friends who have and I know how bad they can be. I've done some research and some creative freedom will have to be given as sufferers usually go through them rather frequently. Obviously, we never see Hawkeye complain about migraines or suffer with them, so we'll just have to live with the fact that this is not canon. :)

* * *

It had never happened to him before. Not in surgery, at least

He'd suffered the occasional migraine in his life and the last one had been during a lull where he feigned a hangover to stop Trapper from fussing over him. He'd been lucky enough to sleep it off but today he wasn't so lucky.

Yesterday he suffered through the whole day with some symptoms of what was to come. A mild headache along with irritability and tiredness had always been one of the things that let Hawkeye know what was coming. He hoped he'd be lucky enough to sleep it off. He'd even got Klinger to make sure the V.I.P tent was ready for use. A dark room always helped him and being that it was Summer, he couldn't make BJ suffer in the heat of the Swamp. But then it all went to Hell. Wounded arrived and Charles was away on R&amp;R meaning the three surgeons needed to work harder to make up for the loss of a doctor.

He was doing good for a while but the bright lights of O.R. and the hectic pace soon had his head pounding.

"Okay, close for me Margaret." Hawkeye said. "Corpsman, get this kid out of here. I'm just gonna catch a breath of fresh air. I'll be back." he informed Margaret, who kept her eyes on her work as she finished up the few stitches before giving the nod for the patient to be taken away.

"That's the third time he's stepped outside. Usually we can't get him outside to take a break. What's the deal, Hunnicutt?"

"Beats me, Colonel."

"No heavy sessions? He's not hungover."

"No. He stayed in the Swamp for most of the day, he was in a bad mood. I just left him alone. But he wasn't drinking."

"How many more are out there, Klinger?"

"About thirty, Colonel."

"Margaret, can you finish up here for me, I'll try and rally the troop." Potter said pulling his gloves off and heading out the same door Pierce had gone through moments ago.

Hawkeye was sat on the bench, elbows on knees and his hands covering his eyes. Potter stalled for a moment, worried he'd stumbled upon the other man when he was maybe more vulnerable and exposed than he would have liked anyone seeing. But he quickly remember the soldiers outside and they didn't have the luxury of time. If Pierce was overwhelmed right now, he needed to help him get back on track.

"Pierce?" Potter said, using his softer tone of voice.

Pierce looked up towards the Colonel, squinted slightly. "You need me back in there?" he asked.

"Not right yet. I'm just a little concerned. Usually the nurses have to bring you food while you're operating. Today, we can't keep you in there."

"I'm sorry Colonel. This is really bad timing I just have the worst headache."

"Headache? Pierce, I've had a headache to beat all headaches and it's never made me like this."

"So maybe it's more of a migraine than a headache." Hawkeye closed his eyes again against the brightness.

"Ah," Colonel said, understanding better. Mildred had a cousin who suffered with them and he'd seen how disruptive they could be.

"I only got one other since being here. Before you got here and it was quiet at the time. I don't seem to get them as often any more."

"Anything I can do?"

Hawkeye shook his head. "I'll do my bit. But I could maybe do with swapping my post op shift until this goes."

Potter nodded, though Pierce couldn't see it. "Okay son, you take your time and get back in when you can. Once we get to the superficial wounds, I want you out and getting some rest."

"Thanks Colonel."

"Oh, Pierce? Next time a heads up would be nice."

"Lets hope there's no next time." Pierce said, opening his eyes and smiling at the Colonel. He watched as the older man headed back into surgery, and wished he was heading back to a dark room right now. He sighed. The sooner he got through surgery, the sooner he'd get there.  
He headed back inside, ready to do his best.


	7. Jimmy

Prompt: After a long night of patching up endless casualties Hawkeye finds himself face to face with an old friend from school on the operating table, it doesn't look good for his friend and he tries his best to hide his feelings from the rest of the 4077th

_**A/N:** This story seemed to take me *forever* It's kinda weird. I was very conscious of making it different from 'Sometimes you hear the bullet' and erm…. it kinda did it's own thing in the end._

* * *

"Thirteen hours…" Winchester complained as he took his bloodied scrubs off.

"What time is it?" BJ asked.

"I don't even know what time it was when we went in," Hawkeye replied as he sat on the bench. From the other side of the changing area, Margaret stepped through, dirty scrubs removed. "It's almost o-five hundred. The next batch of wounded is expected in the next six hours."

"Cap'n Pierce, we got a wounded soldier in the compound, Sir." Klinger said rushing into the room.

"That was a short six hours," Hawkeye remarked.

"Are there many?" BJ asked.

"Just the one."

"I got it," Pierce said, waving off BJ who was about to follow him out. "You two may as well get some sleep." Hawkeye said as he headed outside.

"Klinger, get Nurse Abel in here to assist Captain Pierce and myself," Margaret said. "Right, Major." Klinger said, heading off again.

"Get someone to call me if I'm needed, okay?" BJ said.

Outside, Hawkeye rushed over to the Jeep with the wounded soldier. Hawkeye quickly checked over his injuries. It was more serious than he'd anticipated. "Don't worry, you're in good hands. I know this place doesn't look like much but…" Hawkeye's eyes travelled up to the soldiers face. Words caught in his throat, there was no air in his lungs, like he'd been hit in the gut. "Jimmy.." he whispered, breathless.

"How's it looking, Pierce?" Colonel Potter asked as he limped from his tent. He'd been having trouble with his leg and when the urgent cases had been treated, they sent Potter to rest his leg while he could.

Pierce was in a daze and merely looked up at the Colonel wordlessly for a second or two before the arrival of Corporal Klinger, who accidentally knocked into the Captain literally jolted him from his thoughts. "It's pretty bad," Pierce recounted. "I best scrub up."

Potter watched the doctor head inside. He'd give him a chance to settle into O.R. And then he figured he'd drop in to see how they were doing. Pierce looked like he was fighting off fatigue and that was never a good combination with surgery.

O.R. was a strange thing

Even though herself and Pierce had just come out of surgery, Pierce seemed to be in a very different state of mind to what he had been minutes earlier.

But the surgery was complicated and Margaret understood that maybe he just needed to concentrate as best he could on it.

It took over an hour for Pierce to finish up the meticulous work on the patient. He was taken off to post op and they were able to breath a sigh of relief.

"Have the nurse on duty get me if anything changes."

"Pierce, you need to sleep. We have more wounded. BJ or Charles can be called up if anything happens."

"Margaret, I'm not asking. I'm Chief surgeon you get me," he said, voice taking on a sharp edge.

She sighed. They were tired and arguing with him would do neither of them any good. "Very well doctor, now please get some rest before the next lot of wounded arrive."

It seemed as though no sooner had Hawkeye laid down and fallen into a deep slumber that someone was shaking him awake.

He opened his eyes and looked up to see BJ, fully dressed standing over him. "C'mon, Hawk, wounded are getting here. We'll take triage, you go scrub up, okay?" BJ said as he Hawkeye his boots as he tiredly sat up in bed. He felt exhausted and wondered briefly about Jimmy. There was no time though, he had to help the next batch of injured soldiers.

Soon enough, he was back in O.R. His mind numb, fingers working automatically.

"How's it looking out there, Padre?" Potter asked when the Priest stepped inside a few hours into the session after taking a break from O.R. to provide comfort to those still waiting.

"Quite a few still to go, I'm sad to say, Colonel."

"Post op is looking very full too. I've shipped out all the men who can go but we're going to run out of space."

"Go through the usual steps, Klinger. We've had more wounded than this before."

"Klinger, make sure that Thompson kid doesn't get moved." Hawkeye said. "I'm finished here. Litter."

"Thompson?" Klinger tried to recall the patient Pierce was referring to while Hawkeye's current patient was taken out. "Oh, the last guy who came in on the Jeep." Klinger said.

"Right. I got a table here, ready and waiting," Pierce called out.

"Boy this guy's a mess," BJ said. Pierce wandered over to get a look. The patients back was torn apart after he got hit by shrapnel.

"Sorry Captain." Klinger said.

"What?" BJ asked looking up at Klinger.

"Captain Pierce. Thompson didn't make it." Klinger informed.

And there it was. One of those moments where everything seems to stop for a moment. Hawkeye realises he's staring a little at Klinger and now isn't the time. He offers a nod of understanding to Klinger.

"I'm sorry Hawk," BJ said.

"You did everything you could, Pierce." Margaret added.

Hawkeye didn't meet BJ's eye and headed back to his table."Okay, who's next?"

Klinger headed out ready to send the next patient through. Hawkeye operated on him. The next couple of patients too. All the while his mind was on Jimmy. When he finished that third patient he headed out for some fresh air.

No sooner had he sat down than Margaret was there. "Do you need anything Captain?" she asked, gently.

He shook his head. He was tired but more than that, he was tired of the hopelessness that could strike at any time. Margaret headed back inside and he closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. Blindly pulled his gloves off and discarded them haphazardly on the floor.

He didn't hear Colonel Potter leave the O.R. Didn't hear a thing until the older man sat down beside him on the bench.

"Are you okay, son?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"You've been awfully quiet in there. Something on your mind?" Hawkeye didn't answer and Potter pressed on "Your patient that didn't make it…"

"Colonel…"

"There's nothing you could have done."

"I knew him." Hawkeye blurted out. Colonel Potter obviously hadn't expected that. "We were friends in High School. A couple of years when we were close as anything and then when we left, when we didn't have to see one another any more, we drifted apart."

"I'm sorry, Pierce. If you want to have some time to yourself, I understand."

"It made me think about the people here. I mean, we're all friends because we're forced together. Nothing ties us to one another. We'll all go home and forget about one another." He rested his elbow on his knee and covered his eyes with his hand. He was despairing.

"No. Maybe they'll be some of us who don't see one another as often, but as a veteran of more than one War Pierce I can tell you that when you make true friends, ones that really matter, you don't just let them go." He hadn't sold Hawkeye on the idea, he could tell. "Son, you don't realise it but the people in this camp have a real affection for you. When you're not here, the camps not complete. You can't see it like others do. Like I do. You and Hunnicutt are as close as any of the true friends I still hold close to me now. You think Radar's just going to stop caring? That he's even capable of it? Hawkeye, you won't just be forgotten. And I promise you that no matter what, you can always call me a friend."

Hawkeye blindly reached out with his hand and found the Colonel's shoulder. Rested his hand on it wordlessly, a thank you when words couldn't be found, when they weren't enough. Shoulders strong enough to take on the burden of another's pain despite his own struggles.

Potter placed his own hand on top of Pierce's.

"Okay, I'm heading back in," Potter said, releasing his hand. His voice as a little hoarser than usual, gruff with emotion and he cleared his throat. "Come back in when you're ready. Sadly, there's a table waiting for you."

Potter headed back inside. Hawkeye remained a little longer before he headed inside. Back to the war.


	8. Bloomington

**After returning home, Radar made a trip to Bloomington, Illinois to meet Henry's wife and children.**

_Thought I'd keep this one short and sweet. xx_

* * *

He stood before the house in Bloomington, wringing his hands together with nerves.

He'd wanted to do this since he got home. But the timing had been bad. Uncle Ed's death and the struggle keeping the farm going was all he had time for. Of course, when his friends back in Korea sent help for him things got easier.  
It touched him, more than he could ever tell them. There they were fighting War and death and they were worried about him, doing things to help him.  
Well, it kinda blew his mind. So once they were settled there was one thing he had to do.

He remembered telling Hawkeye and Trapper about wanting to come to Henry's house. Tell his wife just how much he missed her and the kids. How much he wanted to hold his baby boy. He wasn't sure if it were a good idea. Would Lorraine want to see him at all? He'd told Hawkeye and Trapper but it was not long after Henry's death and they had been drinking a lot more, if that were even possible, and conversation with them was tricky, if not impossible most days.  
By the time they were sober enough to listen, Radar was tired of talking about it.

He talked to Father Mulcahy about it, and he felt a lot better about it. He said it was a good idea and that Mrs Blake might appreciate it and find a sense of peace from it.

So there he was. Staring up at the house where Henry Blake should be living. Would she appreciate seeing him? He took a deep breath and stepped up to the door, knocked on it and waited for his answer.


	9. Whole

_If you're still taking fic prompts, I'm at a loss for any real BJ/Peg WITHOUT Hawkeye/BJ..._

* * *

"Darling?"

BJ peered round to see Peg stood at the door, dressing gown pulled around her slender frame. "I can't believe I'm here," BJ whispered as he looked back down at his sleeping daughter. She'd finally fallen asleep less than an hour ago, exhausted.  
Peg said she'd never been so excited before and BJ had relished every moment.

His biggest fear was that Erin would just not know him, show no real interest in him whatsoever. It was unimaginably rewarding when her little face lit up when she saw him and then toddled towards him, arms outstretched.

"Believe it. You've done your time in Hell. Now it's time for our family." She said as she walked up behind him, putting her arms on his shoulders and rubbing them soothingly.

"I never thought she's recognise me." BJ admitted.

Peg halted in rubbing his shoulders and he turned to her. "What is it?" She looked at him a moment before moving to sit in the rocking chair that was at the end of Erin's bed, sitting in it as BJ sat on the floor besides their daughters bed, his hand stroking her soft golden wisps of hair.

"Remember our anniversary? When I sent you the tape?"

"Of course, darling."

"When I got that and a letter from your friends, they told me how hard it was for you when Erin thought Radar was her Daddy."

Just a reminder of that constricted BJ's heart. Peg reached out and held his hand. "Oh darling, I never wanted you to be hurt by that."

"It's okay," BJ assured her. Nothing bad about that place needed to be here, in this corner of the world.

"I always talked about you to Erin, but after that, I made sure I played her the tape they sent, made sure she knew your voice. I played it in the background a lot. There's a lot of tape. It was… comforting. It was like you were in the next room, chatting with friends. And Erin got to know your voice. When she saw you, she _knew_ you."

"I love you so much, Peg."

"We love you too, darling."


	10. Christmas Baubles

**Another Christmas-related prompt:** Snapshots of everyone's first Christmases home (so some post-war, some still during)? And a mix of moods, but ending on a happy note.

_I didn't do everyone… just the first few ideas that came to mind._

* * *

Walter cleared his throat "Erm, this year I'd just like to make a toast to Uncle Ed, who we all still miss.

And here's hoping the War is over soon."

* * *

She'd never felt so alone.

Last Christmas she'd been with Hawkeye and BJ, tried to keep a patient alive until after Christmas to spare his family. This year, she spent the day with her Mother and it was nice.

She loved her parents, but she missed her nurses. Missed her friends.

She just didn't bond with all the new people she worked with like she did the old ones. She thought she'd grown. Maybe the growth wasn't as good as she expected.

* * *

"Girls, calm down! You can come and help me and your Mother set the table in five minutes, okay?"

Whether the girls heard or not, he had no idea. He walked through to find Louise tidying away some of the clutter in the room. Something fell to the floor and she picked it up.

"Oh, you must have missed sending this card," she said, handing the card and envelope over to her husband.

The address was neatly written out, the card written. Simple and to the point. 'Dear Hawk, Merry Christmas. Love from Trapper &amp; Family. PS, now you're back home call me. I'll drive up to meet you sometime.' After that, his scrawled phone number.

But he didn't forget to send it. He just didn't sent it. He ripped the card up and put it in the bin. "Doesn't matter much now."

* * *

There was one package left under the tree.

"It's yours," Daniel said, passing it across.

It was unsigned. The writing not his Dad's. Hawkeye ripped the package open and pulled out a pack of Argyle socks. A little note fell out and Hawkeye picked it up. Opened it. "For all the socks I stole in Korea. Here's some of the best money can buy." Hawkeye read out loud to his Dad's amusement.


	11. The Aftermath

The mess tent was dark, the coffee had gone cold hours ago.

BJ sat in the dim light, sheets of paper with his familiar scrawl across it as well as a dozen sheets of screwed up paper. The pen was in his hand, gripped loosely between fingers as his mind wandered.

"BJ?" Father Mulcahy's voice broke the silence with gentle hesitation. He opened his mouth to start speak but closed it. "I wanted to ask you if you were alright but I know how you're feeling. We're all feeling it too."

BJ offered a weak smile. "I couldn't stand it in the Swamp alone. Charles is in post op and it's so quiet."

"Colonel Potter asked me if I thought I could say some words of comfort tomorrow morning. I'm not sure what I can say that would make this any better," Mulcahy confessed as he took a seat opposite from the doctor.

"I wrote Peg. I told her everything that happened," BJ picked up the sheets of paper. "Everything. There's no way I can send it to her. It'll frighten her. I always made him sound so-" BJ struggled for the right phrase. "Since the first moment I got here, Hawkeye was always there. He kept me going. Kept us all laughing. If I tell her what happened to him…"

"BJ, she won't think like that. What happened was a tragic series of events that no one could have predicted."

"How do you cope with it, Father? That God let that happen."

"I can't question His motives. I believe there was a reason for all of this. We just can't see it now."

BJ held Mulcahy his gaze and the priest realised with slow realisation that his friend could take no comfort from those words. Mulcahy had to admit to himself that his belief, devoted, dedicated and unquestioning was what he was relying on right now. He knew it didn't make sense right now, especially when they were all so close. He knew if this were a patient that had come to them injured and recounted such a horrific tale, they'd have felt sympathy but not to such a degree as they were all feeling right now.

"Thought I caught a glimpse of a couple of souls in here. What are you two still doing up?" Potter asked as he came over to the table. BJ folded the letter he wrote Peg up and stuffed it into his pocket out of sight. Mulcahy guessed BJ would be true to his word and wouldn't send it.

"Couldn't sleep," BJ admitted. "Thought I'd write Peg."

"What about you, Colonel? I don't usually see you about this late into the night." Mulcahy asked.

"Just finishing up some paperwork myself, Padre." Potter said as he sat heavily down beside BJ. The sigh that escaped him sounded bone weary. BJ and Mulcahy shared a concerned look.

"Are you okay, Colonel?" Mulcahy gently pressed.

Potter rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. "It's been a trying day," he said bluntly. As if the whole mess wasn't bad enough there was of course a mess of paperwork that needed to be filed. He'd considered leaving it but in the end, decided that he could was better off dealing with it all tonight. He didn't want it to drag out any longer than was necessary. The camp had suffered a shock. He knew what it was like to be one of them men when something unexpected like this happened. He knew how hard the camp would take it. Moral was at risk and in a War zone, moral was essential. Pierce's loss from the unit had the potential to have a knock on affect.

He had to find away to stop that from happening.

"I keep thinking," BJ started when silence had fallen upon them. "There must have been a sign. There must have been something that I missed…"

"O.R. I should have stepped in then. I'm in charge. It's my responsibility to make damn sure my men are okay."

"With all due respect Colonel, the welfare of all the people here does not rely solely on one man's shoulders. I like to think that as much as you oversee the welfare of the camp as a whole, we all play our part."

"We all failed him," BJ said.

The door to the mess tent opened as Margaret and Klinger came in. "So this is where the party is?" Klinger said, attempting to raise a smile. The looks on the faces of the others inside changed his tone. He sighed. "Major Houlihan and I were talking about what happened earlier and came to get a drink when we couldn't sleep. Seems we weren't the only ones."

"Pull up a pew, folks."

"You think we'll be able to talk to him?" Margaret asked as she sat down beside Father Mulcahy while BJ and Klinger gathered the cups and poured fresh coffee for everyone.

"I'm sure Sidney will let us when Pierce is ready."

"The Swamp's so quiet. I actually contemplated putting one of Charles' records on earlier. O.R. will be even worse."

"My the rabble have gathered early this morning," Charles Winchester mocked as he entered the room and headed to get himself a coffee.

"Major, are you coming to join us?" Father Mulcahy asked.

"Thank you, Father no. I merely came for the Army's version of coffee."

"Come on Winchester. We could all use a little support right now."

Charles smiled. "Thank you but again, no." With that Winchester left before anyone else could try and get him to stay.

Margaret was a little riled by the man's apparent non-caring attitude and let it be known. "You'd think the man were above emotions! Is it too much to expect a little compassion for a man he shares a tent with everyday?"

"Now Margaret I don't think Major Winchester was being uncaring. He simply has he own way of dealing with it."

"Yeah," BJ said standing up. "It's called not caring." And with that he headed out the mess tent, Margaret following after him.

"Oh dear, it certainly seems emotions are running high," Mulcahy stated to the remaining two men.

"You said it, Father. Everyone needs something to focus on besides Pierce."

"What about the refugees, Colonel?"

"What about them?" Potter asked.

"There's a small group that are not far from here. The camp they were staying in was destroyed. It might help keep the doctors busy, Sir, why there's only a few patients."

"Dandy idea. Get on too I-Corps first thing. See how quickly we can have them moved over here."

"A fantastic idea," Mulcahy enthused.

"I best get to sleep now, otherwise I'll be up before I've been to sleep," Klinger said, heading back to the office.

"Well, seems as though now will be as good a time as any to call it quits."

"Goodnight, Colonel. Sleep well." Mulcahy started to clear away the crumpled papers BJ had left behind.

At the door, Colonel Potter hesitated and looked back. "Padre, a few extra prayers for Pierce tonight wouldn't go amiss."  
The priest nodded.  
And then he was alone.


	12. Unforgotten

It wasn't that anyone really forgot.

There was an influx of wounded and then one of the patients went AWOL and they spent a large amount of time searching for him. When they did find him, he told them he lost his wedding band and had been looking for it desperately. He knew he was wearing it on the bus in, but he'd passed out on the bumpy roads and hadn't woke up until after surgery.

So everyone was trying to help. Checking the bus, the ground outside, the lost property, the patients belongings. Eventually, it was found. One of the other guys in post op had it stashed with his belongings. They never told the soldier where they found it, but Mulcahy gave the guilty man a bedside visit he'd likely not forget in a hurry.

It was late by the time all the patients were settled and the paperwork filled in and filed away.

Hawkeye almost forgot himself. It was only that he had been searching his footlocker for his favourite issue of his nudest magazine that he spotted the gift.

He pulled it out and grabbed a page of Charles newspaper, using it as wrapping paper. And then he quickly headed off across the compound to Margaret's tent.

He knocked and she invited him inside. "What do you want, Pierce? It's late, I'm exhausted…"

"Not too exhausted for this I hope," he said as he pulled out the package from behind his back and held it out for her. Then realising the state of it he added. "Sorry I didn't have time to wrap it properly."

She smiled meekly at that. "At lease you remembered."

"Barely," Hawkeye said. "I mean, obviously I remembered but we've all been so busy today…"

She sighed. "I know. I'm very grateful."

"You don't even know what it is yet. Come on, open it, open it."

She unwrapped the paper and inside was a gorgeous pink scarf. A light, silky one that caught the light beautifully. "That's…. I love it. Thank you."

He stepped closer and kissed her cheek. "You're welcome. Happy birthday, Margaret."


	13. Blankets

The 8063rd was their temporary home._ A home away from home away from home_, Hawkeye had quipped earlier. BJ had smiled at it, even if he didn't really feel like smiling right then.

They'd been at the camp, doing an exchange of supplies and helping to show some new techniques, share knowledge, the usual thing. It had been fine until they'd gone to leave. They tyre blew out and sent the Jeep veering off the road and the pair of them had ended up thrown from the Jeep and landing in a icy puddle of water. Soaked through with no way to get back to camp, night drawing in, they'd ended up having to head back to the 8063rd.

They were freezing by the time they got there. Their clerk called the 4077th to let them know they were safe and well and they'd head back in the morning.  
So there was nothing to do but wait.  
The VIP tent was made up for them and they were given a temporary chance on clothes to change into so they could shower and warm up.  
The water was mostly cold, but they were as grateful as they could be. They headed to the VIP tent together, in an exhausted silence.

Hawkeye slumped onto one of the cots.

"My feet are freezing," BJ muttered. They had to keep their own boots but they were soaked too. He kicked his off and tried to warm his feet up at the small stove, grabbing the blanket off the cot Hawkeye wasn't sitting on and wrapping it around himself.

"I'm too tired to care," Hawkeye muttered.

BJ looked round at his friend. Hawkeye had his eyes closed, kinda slumped on the bed, booted feet still on the floor. BJ moved over slightly and pulled Hawkeye's boots off and put them next to the stove, where his own stood.  
Hopefully they'd be dry by the morning.

"Your freezing," BJ commented, his fingers a touch warmer by his closeness to the heat.

"Hm," Hawkeye merely muttered, seemingly half asleep already.

"Fine." BJ said, getting up from the stove. He roughly pulled the blanket out from underneath Hawkeye, receiving some protests and confusion as he did it before he encouraged his friend to lay back down, covering him over with his blanket. "Better?"

"Thanks Dad," Hawkeye said, BJ unsure whether he was gently mocking him or really thought his Dad was there. For a moment, BJ's hand lingered, wanting to push the other man's hair back from his face, something he imagined doing with Erin.

"I miss Erin. I miss Peg." BJ said.

"I know," Hawkeye replied.

Moving was too much effort then. He was sat at the end of the cot and he rolled to his side. Hawkeye seemed to sense his movements before BJ really made them and moved over slightly. BJ's head rested against Hawkeye's back.

He felt the warmth from his friends body. It was reassuring and real.  
And he didn't feel quiet so alone. It didn't take long for either of them to fall asleep, despite their lack of space.


End file.
